BAGDAD - A Five days ago, we were talking by the wall that a mortar bomb had knocked down when it fell only a dozen metres from the women's home-cum-office the previous evening. "Is it a warning to us? Of course not. We are against the war. We work with children. Nobody in Iraq wants to harm us. Nobody could possibly want to. We're not leaving because people are on our side," chorused the "two Simonas".
The "two Simonas" is what the volunteers who were abducted yesterday are called in the small international community of aid workers and journalists still working in Iraq. Their theory was, and still is, that their militancy in the peace movement and leftwing groups in Italy guaranteed them immunity. Yet Simona Torretta was still shaken. She was in the garden when the explosion took place. The flying shards of wood, metal and glass from the shattered office windows missed her, but she was unable to sleep that night. The next day, she was exhausted after her lucky escape. Simona Pari looked after her, periodically going upstairs from the office to their rooms to see that everything was all right. Yesterday afternoon, we were finally going to meet to talk about it. Ms. Pari was coming round to the idea of moving into the Al Fanar hotel for the night, the one that had been the headquarters of "Un Ponte Per..." (A Bridge For...) during the dictatorship years, and where Ms. Torretta had stayed during the month of the Gulf conflict and the early post-war days last year. It is in a less isolated area, right opposite the checkpoints leading to the protected compound between the Palestine and Sheraton hotels. "We are certainly not terrorist targets, but perhaps it will help us to sleep if we check into the Al Fanar," she said. What is certain is that she would never have gone to the Palestine. "That's where the American contractors live. It's guarded by marines and the Allawi government police. We "Un Ponte Per..." people could never stay where they are or let ourselves be protected by them," she added at once.
Events proved that it would have done no good in any case. Yesterday, the abductors went into action in broad daylight in the centre of Baghdad, a ten-minute drive away from the Palestine hotel. Even if the two Simonas had decided to stay overnight at the Al Fanar, they would have been seized during the day. Come what may, their office had to stay open. They would have worked until nightfall, when even the most adventurous Iraqis shut themselves in their homes for fear of gun battles, stray bullets and kidnappings. The two women had left for about a month in April, when there was fierce fighting at Najaf, Falluja and Sadr City. Having stayed in Amman, they returned to Baghdad in early June feeling very guilty. "Who will look after our schools? What will our children think? How will our Iraqi staff react?" they asked themselves, determined not to take so much as a summer holiday. Theirs is a strong sense of mission, and their captors are well aware of it.
In fact, everything suggests that the abductors planned their action in detail. There were about 20 of them. "They came in brandishing machine guns and those electric truncheons that paralyse you. The attack was extremely swift. There were about ten of them, but we saw more armed men outside in three vehicles, two SUVs and a station wagon. They had photos of the two Simonas and a description. They asked for everyone's name. They didn't want any mistakes. At one point, they said they were agents of the Iyad Allawi government. They were dressed like paramilitaries in black sweaters, dark jackets and fawn trousers. It took less than five minutes, then they were off..." The account comes from Hanan, a 25-year-old Iraqi woman who has been working for "Un Ponte Per..." for years. The neighbours add one or two details, "The two women left without resisting. They said nothing and made no effort to escape. They were frightened and huddled against the wall together in the ground-floor office, where they were seized. They followed the armed abductors out into the street and they were thrown bodily into the vehicles, which then sped off".
With the two Italians, the abductors seized an Iraqi woman who works for Intersos, another Italian humanitarian organisation whose headquarters are in the same house. Also abducted was Raad Ali Abdul Aziz, a 35-year-old engineer who had recently joined "Un Ponte Per..." and of whom everyone was particularly proud. A fluent English speaker, the new recruit is adept at handling difficult situations, such as organising convoys to take water to Falluja or medicine to Najaf. Marco Buono, the only Italian working for Intersos, managed to avoid capture. He left on Sunday for a fortnight's holiday in Italy. With his calm air and long beard, he can easily pass for an Iraqi. "It's a flying visit. I've got major mine-clearing programmes under way all over the country. I can't stay away for too long," he explained.
It was all too easy for the abductors. The iron gate that leads into the garden of the house where the two humanitarian organisations are based is always open to everyone, without distinction. Outside, an ancient, smoke-spewing generator makes an infernal din. The garden is a tiny oasis of peace where children from the neighbourhood come to play on the grass. Simona Pari put up a swing and a slide. Her favourite child, Cathrine, the neighbour's four-year-old daughter, spends whole afternoons in the garden. It is true that since last autumn, there have been a couple of elderly Iraqis with the rather optimistic title of "guards". Their guns are propped against a column. But everyone knows that their presence is symbolic, and certainly no deterrent. In fact yesterday, no shots were fired. No one offered any resistance.
Who are the abductors? "Let's hope they are common criminals. Then it would just be a question of money," say local agency collaborators.
Yesterday evening, there was talk of "possible contacts for a ransom". Nevertheless, the situation is still unclear. It would be much more complicated, however, if terrorist or guerrilla groups were involved.
There is also a risk that the hostages might be "sold on" to other groups, as has happened to so many of the foreigners abducted in recent months.
Whatever the case, it is sad and paradoxical for these two women who have always claimed they felt "safe and calm", even during the last few months of mounting tension. Simona Torretta is the Pasionaria of "Un Ponte Per...". Today, her list of achievements is topped by the restoration of Baghdad's main library, which was ransacked and burned in April 2003. In June, Simona was happy and proud to show off the computer room and archives, refurbished with sponsorship from the Lombardy regional authority. During the war, she volunteered to stay "with the Iraqis, share their suffering and denounce American aggression". However, she was aware that the day-to-day activities of her organisation were stymied by force of circumstance. She was willing to ignore the oppression and stark injustice of Saddam's regime, and all imaginable difficulties (not least of which is corruption) to be able to remain in Iraq.
Her dilemma is familiar to humanitarian organisations that operate in the dictatorships of the developing world. How far is it legitimate to compromise with those in power in order to help civilians? For Simona, there can be no question that humanitarian efforts take precedence, always and everywhere. To this she adds a profound conviction that America's war was, and is, unjust. Peace movement activists who have passed through the "Un Ponte Per..." house reported the torture of Iraqi prisoners at the Abu Ghraib jail months before the news broke. The two Simonas have spent many hours around a table with militants from Occupation Watch, who are committed to reporting on the victims of America's presence in Iraq.
In contrast, Simona Pari puts her mission to the children of Baghdad before everything else. She is the engine that drives the complicated machinery with which "Un Ponte Per..." aims to reopen 40 or so schools in the Baghdad area. Work on the ground was already under way in March, financed by funds collected in Italy and contributions from the main international humanitarian agencies.
When the UN pulled out after last August's attacks, only small NGOs were left in the field. Simona's first action was to take a group of clowns round the primary schools of Sadr City, the poor, violence-plagued district of Baghdad where two million Shiites live.
"Forget about the Americans. Their contractors are corrupt and their public works are jerry-built. The schools they say they have refurbished are still dilapidated, with broken windows and awful toilets. Ours are much better and at infinitely lower cost," she would say. There were also training courses for teachers and human rights lessons for women and children. "In Iraq, and in the region in general, there is no culture of human rights," Simona used to say. Were there any threats? Just the odd warning to be careful in a land devastated by fear, gangs and increasingly indiscriminate terrorism. "Routine, but nothing serious," she said. Simona had, however, taken one sensible precaution. She dressed, Iraqi-style, in a black headscarf, cheap plastic sandals and sober, shapeless tunics. It was a big cultural leap for a 29-year-old who grew up on the right side of the tracks in Rimini.
The effort was appreciated and the sheikhs of Sadr City had thanked her more than once. "You're a proper Iraqi. You should apply for an Iraqi passport, get married and have lots of children, like an Iraqi woman," they would joke. She had also begun to study Arabic, although she does not know enough to communicate with her abductors. She has won many little everyday victories to be accepted and listened to in a war-torn society so different from her own. Today, we can only hope that the network of contacts and acquaintances built up day by day will be able to intervene.
Last weekend, lots of people came to see the damage done by the bomb in the neighbours' garden and reassure her. "It wasn't meant for you. It was a mistake. In Baghdad, lots of people die by mistake every night," they consoled her. Nor did the Italian embassy in Baghdad point out any particular danger. "Just don't leave the city. Or your office," officials advised after the murder of Enzo Baldoni.
Obviously, the death of Enzo and his Palestinian driver, Ghareeb, weighed heavily. August was a difficult month for everyone in Iraq. Enzo dropped in on the two Simonas before leaving for Najaf with the Red Cross and his death left a gap in the psychological defences of the two aid workers. "Why did they kill him, if he was anti-war and anti-American?" the two Simonas wondered apprehensively. But then Baldoni had been in Iraq for only a fortnight. They had been there much longer. That is what they said to reassure themselves, always trying to look on the bright side, the quality they would display in time of danger. As if it were still possible to argue rationally with guerrillas, terrorists, malcontents and thieves. In the end, who can say they are wrong? They had decided to stay in Iraq at all costs, in close contact with Iraqi society.
They had even criticised the Italian Red Cross for shutting itself up in the hospital where it is working, cutting back staff and refusing to go out to into the community. Better to live in hope. If they had lived in terror, their activities would have become impossible. Now we hope that the indomitable optimism of the two Simonas will be rewarded.
Lorenzo Cremonesi http://www.corriere.it
Iraq, Armed Gang Seizes Two Italian Women
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